


Untitled

by sjosh



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Confessions, Drama, Fluff, Jealous Patrick, M/M, Romance, Some Cursing, idk i'm so bad w tags, jealous pete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sjosh/pseuds/sjosh
Summary: There was something about seeing that woman with Patrick that he couldn't stand, no matter how many times he'd told himself he wouldn't and couldn't get close to the man himself. Still seeing him get so well along with someone who very probably would soon be something more than just a friend to him caused Pete to hurt like he was dying.





	Untitled

Pete felt like a red hot iron was stuck inside his chest. He tried not to gasp for air but breathing normally was just as hard as not grimacing to the pain. It would be over in a moment – it was always just that one second, a glance to the wrong direction and he'd swallow the fire, then it'd be over. But the moment between, the time it travelled down and finally drowned, always felt like an hour.  
He leaned to the table and pretended to check his hair, not that it mattered but he had to do something to cover the fact his eyes had tears in them.

There was something about seeing that woman with Patrick that he couldn't stand, no matter how many times he'd told himself he wouldn't and couldn't get close to the man himself. Still seeing him get so well along with someone who very probably would soon be something more than just a friend to him caused Pete to hurt like he was dying.

Slowly he straightened up and noticed Andy was giving him an odd look. Instinctively he flashed a grin and shrugged. If there was something he was really good at, it was denying he felt pain. It was obvious from him when he didn't notice anyone watching, but when he did, he covered the weak spot so swiftly he wouldn't have been able not to even if he wanted. Andy lifted his brows and turned back. He wasn't convinced, but it didn't matter. He never asked.  
Pete on the other hand had imprisoned the remaining ache. When he had to cover it quickly, it always landed somewhere inside him where it got stuck and would only wear off with time. He sighed and sat down, hoping nobody else would try to...

”Hey?”

… bother him.  
Joe kneeled next to his chair and laid his hands on Pete's knees to support his balance. For a moment, Pete wanted to knock him over just to make himself feel better, but the idea of it made him chuckle and with that, the thought was gone. Joe tilted his head and, apparently deciding balancing on his toes was too bothersome even if he leaned to Pete, laid his arms on Pete's lap and dropped on his knees.  
”What the hell, Joe.”

”You look depressed,” the younger said and made a face at him.  
Pete snorted.

”Go away, you're making me feel awkward,” he said and poked the other between the eyes.

”No,” Joe simply said in a calm tone and rubbed the spot he'd been poked at, ”I don't think so. What I do think is that if you don't cheer up and start concentrating on your work, Andy will give you a lecture. It's not fun. So next time, don't fall behind, it sounds really awful when you do.”

Pete leaned back and gave Joe a long stare.  
”So... in order to save me from Andy's lecture, you came here to give me yours.”

”Precisely. And I was hoping it'd drive you over the edge and make you pour all your worries on me, but I guess that's not happening, is it?”

”No. It's definitely not going to happen.”

”Too bad.”

Joe pulled himself up and looked around. His eyes stuck to Patrick and the woman who was sitting next to him, and Pete tried to avoid acknowledging any of this in any manner in order to not get yet another burning coal stuck in this throat.

”You know, it's sort of obvious, though,” Joe sighed and looked at him again.  
Pete's heart skipped a beat and he coughed, feeling his blood escape his face. He hoped that wasn't obvious.  
Joe frowned.

”Do something about it before it kills you.”

-

Patrick sat down on the dry concrete ground and watched the rain fall down just inches away from his feet. Sometimes a drop or two landed on the tips of his shoes, splashing across the leather. He tugged his hands under his arms and let his mind escape the moment. The others were leaving – he'd stay and finish the track. There was nothing for him at home, nobody waiting and nothing to do, so he had no reason to leave. Instead, he did have an excuse to stay. More often than not, the studio felt more like home to him than his apartment did. This was were his family was and where he felt the most comfortable at, not to mention it very often was also the place he spent most time at. If it wouldn't have required so much explaining, he probably would have stayed there all the time.

He barely took notice when the door opened. When Pete sat down next to him with a cigarette in hand, he had to.  
”Staying here?” Pete asked him.  
He was faking the casual tone so obviously that Patrick was sure he meant for him to see through it.  
”Yes,” he replied shortly and watched the other light his cigarette, ”and you?”

”As well,” Pete nodded and drew a breath through the filter.  
He let the smoke back out after just a moment, and the cloud soon dispersed into the rainy weather. The wind carried the smell away from Patrick, for which he was as thankful as he was bitter.

”I could help you if you need me,” the older said a moment later, glancing at Patrick quickly, ”if Elisa's not staying.”

”And if she is?”

”Well, I think she can handle the table, can't she? I mean, she is a professional.”

Patrick grimaced.  
”Why do you hate her so much?” he asked, feeling mildly discomfortable and a little more annoyed.

Pete frowned and shrugged.  
”I don't hate her,” he said, but his voice sounded uncertain, ”Why would I?”

”That's what I'm asking you, Pete. Because I don't know.”

A silence fell between them, but it wasn't as awkward as Patrick had expected. It was a little tense but not in a pressuring manner – it simply seemed to message that the conversation was still on, and that its seriousness had increased a lot within the past three sentences.

”I just don't think she's...” Pete started and fell quiet again.

Patrick picked up a small stone from the ground and threw it as far as he could. It fell nearby, making a quiet sharp sound as it landed.  
”... I don't like the way she...”

He waited, but Pete didn't seem to be able to finish his sentence. He wished he could have finished it for him, but he really had no idea why the other was acting so strange about the woman. And it was slowly starting to look like Pete had little idea himself, which doubled the frustration.  
”Whatever it is,” Patrick finally sighed and picked himself up the ground, ”You need to get over it. You really need to get over it, Pete.”

There was a flash of hurt on the older's face, but Patrick couldn't identify it properly before it vanished. The older breathed out another cloud of smoke and said nothing.  
”I'll go inside. She's not going to stay, so I'd really appreciate your help.”  
The smile Patrick gave the other was probably wasted since Pete's eyes were locked to something in the distance, but he smiled it either way. He would have given a lot to get the other to cheer up now, but it would have done more harm than good.  
Instead he opened the door and returned inside to ready himself for recording.

*

Pete felt like the smoke he'd inhaled had burned a hole to the back of his throat. It was a very recent downside to breaking against his decision to quit and in a manner, its appearance was welcome. He still kept forgetting about it, but when he got reminded about it, he definitely had less cravings than otherwise. What hurt more was the conversation they'd had.

He felt slightly intimidated when he followed the other inside moments later. Everyone else had left, uncommon but not entirely unexpected, and the building felt a little creepy now with every of his steps echoing from the walls up until the door to the recording room.  
Patrick was stretching. They shared a glance before Pete tore his eyes away from the other and sat down next to the mixing table. He hated the thing, but it was the best excuse he had in his arsenal to stay with Patrick until he'd managed to gather his courage. Somewhere deep inside he knew it wasn't going to happen, but even pretending he was going to do it made his whole body tingle and his heart race.

He jumped when he felt the other's hands on his shoulders. Their gazes met again, this time through the reflection in the window right in front of them. The room with their equipment was dark so that the window was almost like a mirror to the lit room they occupied. Patrick laid a finger over his lips, giving Pete's reflection a quite stern look, and Pete tried to relax in his chair again. The other started to massage his shoulders slowly but with a good amount of strength, his eyes never once parting from the contact they had.

”Tell me,” he said and the tone of his voice implied that it was neither a plead nor a command, it was a suggestion.

Pete shivered. Now his heart was like a little bird trapped inside a cage. He feared it'd explode if it kept on like that. Would he do it?  
It wasn't such an unlikely scenario anymore.  
Then, he felt Patrick tighten his grip and push him back down to the chair. He'd stopped being relaxed and moved forwards – the confident manner Patrick guided him back with made him feel so much better and a lot less like his next move would decide whether he lived or died.  
It was true that he would probably not die to it if he did tell the other, no matter how badly things went. He had obviously never died to any similar situation yet and despite the fact he couldn't recall ever feeling like this about anyone, he had faith in his coping skills. Patrick wasn't an idiot either. He hardly ever reacted badly to anything. The only thing holding Pete back was the illogical fear stemming from nothing in particular – the heightened anxiety before endless possibilities and the risk of losing when there was so much to gain.

He wanted to lower his gaze before talking, but felt that it would have been a cowardly thing to do. Patrick clearly wanted to stare into his soul, and a part of him wished he'd just get through there already so that he wouldn't need to ever open his mouth at all.

”I,” he started and hesitated immediately.  
Patrick dropped the eye contact. Pete noticed he was surprised about it – but at the same time, it was like a rope had fallen off his throat and he could breathe freely again. The younger man's fingers still worked at his tense muscles, moving little by little to the back of his neck. His hair stood up each time Patrick's fingertips touched bare skin from underneath his shirt.  
”I know you get along with her well, but I don't want you to date her.”

Patrick made a small, surprised sound, and Pete saw his eyes flicker back to him for a split second through the window.  
”Really?”

”Yeah.”

”So that's it?”

”I guess.”

”Why not?”

Pete hesitated. Patrick guided him back down to the chair with an annoyed grunt – again, he'd had no idea he had moved. It seemed the movement came naturally as he tensed up.  
”Because... She's not good. I mean, she's... great, just... I don't think you'd work, you know?”  
Hearing himself say that made Pete want to cry out in frustration and hit himself with anything within an arm's reach. He visualised it in his mind and hoped that'd be enough. He sounded pathetic.

”You could as well give me the real reason. This conversation is making me extremely uncomfortable,” Patrick sighed and brushed off the hair that covered Pete's neck.  
His hand wrapped around that and Pete made a sound as his fingers dug into the muscles.

”Uncomfortable?” he repeated with a grimace, ”Come try how I feel.”

Patrick chuckled.  
”I am trying how you feel and I'd say you feel pretty uncomfortable as well. So it'd be best if you just got to it, whatever that will be.”

Pete shook his head. He wasn't able to. Even if he had a hundred years to waste, he'd never get to the point. It was absurd to even think about. Every time he even pretended he was going to say it, it felt like his throat closed on him and if he'd push it, he'd end up gagging. Patrick waited for it, he was being surprisingly patient with Pete to the point it seemed out of character to the older.  
”You know,” the bassist finally muttered, leaning into the touch as Patrick's fingers reached to places he really could feel all the good they were doing to his muscles, ”I'm never going to get there. To actually saying it.”

He sensed Patrick shiver – the sensation came partially through the fingers that were still dutifully massaging his neck and partially from the way his breathing halted for just a fraction of a second, breaking the pattern.

”I'll be honest with you, Pete,” the vocalist said softly in a quiet voice.  
He moved his hands back on Pete's shoulders, pressed his thumbs firmly against the muscles connecting to his shoulder blades and continued the massage like whatever they were speaking of had nothing to do with the situation itself.  
”I have no intentions of dating Elisa. I can't understand where you got that from.”

”Eh,” Pete mumbled, feeling a hot rush up to his cheeks and not quite knowing if it was because of what Patrick had said or because his thumbs had just rubbed open a knot from inside him, ”Maybe from the way she's been glued to you for the past two weeks, and I've never seen you laugh so much with anyone.”

”Except yourself.”

”Y-... wait, what?”

Patrick laughed.  
His hand lifted for just a moment to brush through Pete's hair, then returned back to what it had been doing before.  
”Think about it, idiot. We see nearly every day. Out of that, we talk maybe three or four times. I laugh every time. If you haven't noticed, I'm insulted. It makes me embarrassed. It's like you can't say anything to me without it making me smile or laugh. It'd make me uncomfortable if it didn't feel so good.”

Now Pete was certain the blush wasn't because of the massage, only reinforced by it.

”Well, that's... good?”

”Yes, I think so,” Patrick replied and slumped over him.  
Youngers arms slipped past Pete's shoulders and the man crossed them around him, his chin landing on the left shoulder that suddenly felt everything at least ten times clearer than before. Pete could have sworn he felt the other's very life force with his skin. That feeling, again, had little to do with the massage and everything to do with the fact that Patrick was practically lying on top of him.

”You know what makes me unreasonably annoyed and defensive?” the singer asked in a purring, warm tone that dripped poison.  
Pete shivered and wished he'd just back off already. His voice so close to his ear that he could feel the air that carried it across space still warm against his skin was sending a clear message to his dick; a message he honestly did not want to forward right then.  
Thinking that, he had forgotten to answer, but Patrick didn't seem bothered.

”The way Joe acts around you.”

The older blinked.  
”What?” he repeated.  
Patrick had an uncanny talent for making him dumber than he actually was. This conversation had just taken a turn he wasn't at all prepared for.

”The way he sits on your lap, wraps his arms around your shoulders, curls up right next to you so that you instinctively put an arm around his shoulders and like today, pushes his face way past the friendly borders and fairly far up the girlfriend zone.”

Pete had no words at all.

”Or the fact that unlike me, he can make you laugh every time he talks to you. It's like he does the same thing to you that you do to me and I hate knowing I could never even begin to make you enjoy yourself like that. I just don't have the words, the timing or anything of what he has in plenty.”  
Patrick let out a pained sound and finally pulled back.  
”I must be making you feel really awkward. I'm sorry.”

Pete grabbed his wrist and held him on place, unable to think further. His mind was stuck.  
”But... you know Joe,” he finally managed to push through, ”He's like that to everyone.”

”Is he?” Patrick replied in a rather creepy manner, like he didn't really even care, or like they were discussing weather.

”He... is, Patrick.”

”Well, then.”

Pete reached his hand over his shoulder and held it out, wanting Patrick to give him the hand he hadn't grabbed. After a second of hesitation, he felt the soft skin of the other's palm over the texture of his own and closed his fingers around it, pulling him close again.  
”I feel...” Patrick begun and Pete could feel his anxiousness and the way he didn't feel comfortable staying there.

”You feel?”

”Pete, let me go.”

He did.  
Patrick straightened up and slowly made his way to the door. For a second, Pete's heart seemed to stop and then restart incredibly painfully when he thought the other would just walk through there and leave him be, but instead Patrick turned the world off.  
Pete blinked in the dark. He turned over with his chair to the direction of Patrick's footsteps. The first thing he knew of the other was his warm scent – before he could open his mouth, the younger had climbed on top of him. His knees pressed against Pete's thighs, locking him there, and his warm hips landed on his lap. The shorter male laid his arms on Pete's shoulders and pressed his forehead against Pete's.  
If the day had been filled with pain before then, now it was really moving towards a genuine heart-attack if the rythm of Pete's heartbeat could tell him anything. It beat against his ribcage like a drum and he was certain it wasn't only loud in his own ears anymore.

They breathed air from one another until oxygen seemed a luxury. Pete didn't know what to say and Patrick didn't utter a word. Eventually, the singer turned his head and straightened up again, his weight coming down on Pete more than before with the shift.  
He didn't expect the kiss that followed. He had, at best, expected words or the other now taking off and leaving like probably would have been the most characteristic option for him. Instead, the man kissed him in a manner that begged for permission to even exist much less go on. He replied to the motion and felt like the room was washed away from him entirely.  
He wrapped his arms around Patrick's little chubby but strong figure, feeling the muscles shift beneath the soft skin as the other moved. The younger felt so alive there – warm, breathing, full of life. His scent was all around Pete and the air was full of it, and his taste was much like that scent and a lot more human than Pete had expected.

”What is he to you?” Patrick asked.  
Pete could feel his lips move against his own and the sensation made him dizzy.

”He? Oh, fuck, Patrick, I'm so fucking stupid. I'm sorry. There's nothing between us. Nothing. I've never – there's never been anything, I've never wanted anything, I don't think he's ever thought about me in that way either. We're just ridiculously close. It's... I'd never...”

”Never?”

”No. I fucking love you.”

The silence that followed was deep as the darkness that surrounded them. Pete's ears were full of noise and he suddenly saw the fire alarm's periodically flashing blue led light in the distance.  
It turned on and off for five times before either of them even dared to breathe normally.  
”I... didn't mean to say that,” the older muttered.  
He felt a tear in the corner of his eye. It was formed by pure embarrasment and prompted by the fading shock he was still feeling, but he wished it would just disappear and never fall on his cheek.

”You didn't?”

”No, I... I didn't mean to say that.”

”But did you mean what you said?”

”I... yeah? You think I can fake something I don't even realise I'm saying?”

Patrick laughed. The tone of it was warm and so normal it seemed to work as a permission for Pete's body to relax.  
”No, I guess not,” the younger said and his voice sounded like he was just as close to tears as Pete was, which in itself was a scary thought, ”I wasn't expecting that.”

”I never meant to fucking say it.”

Their lips joined again and this time, there was no asking for permissions in the tone of it. It was fueled by the tension between them, the feelings they didn't know how to let out, and full of fire brought on by these factors and more.

”I'm glad you did,” Patrick muttered into the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it. My first peterick fic ever also my first fic without smut haha.


End file.
